


The First Time

by LSFOREVER



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:20:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSFOREVER/pseuds/LSFOREVER
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Two years didn’t seem long enough. Two years wasn’t long enough to spend with Louis,</em><br/> </p><p> </p><p>or, Harry and Louis ran away together, and now they're running from nothing (except maybe from each other.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the song and video [The First Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_6BelLZDgk) by Matt Fishel.

It’s always eerily silent in the woods at night. No birds chirping, or other animals making their noises, or moving around. It’s impossible to hear the cars from the nearby roads, but that’s only because their aren’t ever any cars on that road in the night. When it’s too dark to see your own hand five inches in front of your face. Where the deep, thick woods in either side of the almost too narrow street looks tall and dark and intimidating. Seeming like they go on forever and ever, with just dark greens and dead browns and a dry ground.

In the day, the colours of the forest are bright, with greens and yellows and even some blues or reds from some flowers. All the plant life is doing so well still, even in the middle of this cold, dry drought. And Animals are still many, like deer and squirrels and many different species of birds, even the occasional stray cat. That’s what it’s like in the day: beautiful and colorful and alive.

But at night, all of the sun is gone, and there aren’t any houses for miles or any signs of human life, so it’s dark. All the animals have gone and hidden because of how dark it is, along with all the flowers that closed up. Nothing can be heard, or seen, and it’s almost as if someone were to walk through them with a flashlight and find nothing but dead trees and brushes.

And that’s why Harry’s glad that Louis knows how to make a fire. Because otherwise it would be too dark and he’d be even more scared than he is now. Just before the sun goes down, Harry will help find the perfect dead wood for Louis while Louis clears a spot, and he’ll sit back and lay out their blankets as Louis uses the matches he carries and a scrap of paper to start the small fire. They’re so used to doing it this way, in the woods like this as they travel along that road, so use to it because of how long they’ve been doing it now.

Every day before night fall, they’ll venture off back into the woods, only a little, stopping before it gets to thick. They always make sure to stay far enough away from the street that no passerby-cars will see the light from their fire, but still not too far away to where they can’t find the street in the morning.

Harry never gets enough sleep a night, wrapped up in what he knows used to be Louis’ blanket but he’s stolen it over time, facing the barely their fire that seemed to have gone out faster overnight than it usually does, it now being close to morning. Again, Harry barely sleeps; can’t sleep very well on the hard, cold ground, tossing and turning and just barely drifting off for short times before he’s jostled awake again by something unknown.

Which is why most of the time he’ll lay there and watch Louis sleep. Louis always looks so comfortable in the large duvet and sleeping bag that Harry always makes him take at night. (You’ll freeze, Haz, Louis will say and Harry will always come back with But I don’t want you to be cold, with the biggest eyes he can, and Louis always surrenders and takes them; something that happens every night, like a routine.) He’s always chosen to sleep across from Harry on the other side of the fire, supposedly so they get the same amount of heat.

Though Harry always frowns at that. He knows that Louis just says that for an unknown reason to him, because he knows that Louis knows that if they sleep closer together they’d share the warmth and would be warmer. Harry listens to Louis though, and always takes his rightful spot across from him with a silent sigh, because he always listens to the older lad. He hates disappointing Louis, who’s a year older at 16.

Even though the fire is almost out, the outside world is starting to not be so dark, and Harry knows it’s early morning, knows it won’t be long before Louis wakes up and takes his morning walk. The one he always takes, always alone and without anything but the clothes on his back and shoes on his feet and himself. Always, at the butt crack of dawn, he’ll wake and walk alone, and Harry always stays to pack all their blankets away and whatnot. He doesn’t know what Louis does ever, probably just walks and thinks about things Harry isn’t aware of.

But Louis is always back within just ten minutes or so, and then they’re off again, to venture down the never-ending road they’ve been travelling along for well over six months, almost seven. Well, maybe not the same road, they take different ones as they need to, traveling wherever, as much as they can. Sometimes they’ll stumble across towns, or even cities, or like the one that’s only a mile or so down, just a small jumble consisting of a gas station/mechanic shop, and a few houses.

As the trees start to get lighter, and the birds could be heard now, though the sun still wasn’t up. It was just a misty, grey light tinge that meant the sun would be up soon enough. And along with it, Louis. Harry laid there quietly, gazing along at the sleeping Louis and smiling a little to himself. Louis looked peaceful bundled up like that, his face just barely poking out of the top of his covers. Peaceful and quiet, something Louis never seems to be anymore.

When Louis starts to stir, Harry quickly pulls his thin blanket up far enough to where Louis wouldn’t be able to see his face, though he would still be able to see Louis. Soon enough, Louis was sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, yawning silently and stretching, and then he was getting up and brushing himself off. With squinted eyes, Harry watched as Louis looked down at him almost longingly it seemed, for a few long moments, before stretching a bit again, pulling on his loose converse, and stalking off into the woods quietly.

And though he got little to no sleep, Harry still stretched out and yawned and got himself up, so he could pat off the dirt and dead leaves from all the blankets and put them away in the backpack he carried. He found the water bottle they’d just filled but didn’t drink and poured it out over the burning ash, stomping on it a bit after pulling on his own shoes.

It was out in no time, and all their stuff was cleaned up. Harry put his bag by his bike, and propped Louis’ guitar against his black bike, and then went over to sit against a tree right at the small camp he’d just cleaned up.

It was definitely a lot brighter out now, rays of sun just starting to peek through the trees, bird-chirping more clear now, and Harry even saw a small squirrel scurry by. Mornings were beautiful like this, calm and serene, and Harry enjoyed them very much. Almost as much as he enjoyed Louis’ company, spending so much time with him, being on the run with him.

Speaking of, Louis was in sight now, stepping in through the trees across from Harry. He looks much more awake now, much more collected and himself than before. Always when he wakes at first he looks confused and slightly angry but also sad and then he looks normal again after he comes back. Harry can only imagine it’s because of his dreams, and that’s part of the reason he takes those walks: to sort his head out? That’s his guess, but he doesn’t know for sure.

Harry’s staring up at him through his eyelashes in silence, wondering what Louis wanted to do next. Whether move on, or maybe stop in the small not-even town up ahead. Harry didn’t mind either way, would always do what Louis asked of him, would always follow wherever Louis wanted. He raised an eyebrow at the small frown Louis sported, but it was gone and Louis was reaching a hand out to Harry, Harry grabbing it and using it to pull himself up.

Louis was just a little taller than Harry, but Harry was quickly catching up, so Harry was just able to look Louis in the eye now without having to tilt his head up too far. After Louis did nothing but stand there and stare back at Harry for a long moment, Harry sighed and slowly made his way over to where their bikes were against some trees, slinging his bag over his shoulders and then climbing onto his bike. With one foot propped on the ground and hands on the handlebars, he turned back to look at Louis expectantly.

The older lad sighed and stalked over to his bike too. He picked up his guitar and secured it over his own shoulder, then got onto his own bike and slowly maneuvered himself through the trees in the direction of the road, Harry close behind. They found the road in no time, and was peddling faster up the large hill, and somewhere along the way, they were racing and actually smiling and laughing, and Harry swears this must be the first time in weeks he’s seen Louis actually, genuinely smile. It’s a rare sight nowadays, and Harry cherishes it, puts it away in the deep pockets of his mind for safe keepings.

The small not-even-town was just down the street now, visible. With a few cars along the sides of the street, and the one gas station/convenient store lit up with the morning light. The sight of it made Harry happy, because he knew they’d have new snacks and something new to drink along the way, instead of water and those old granola bars they’ve been eating for the past two days that Harry’s sick of.

There’re only two or three cars on the street, parked at the side, and they’re old and rusty and only two people are visible outside. One is standing by the pumps on the side of the gas station, and another and simply walking down the street. Harry can hear a dog barking off in the distance as he gets off his bike and props it up against a tree a little ways down on the other side of the station. And he’s listening as Louis explains to him what they’re gonna be doing. The first time Louis’ spoken all day, since yesterday morning actually, and Harry smiles to himself at the sound of it.

And then they’re making their way back to the store, Louis with his Spiderman ski mask on and Harry with his gorilla mask. They always use those when they plan on doing what they’re doing now. Because nobody can see their faces so it’s much easier that way.

After entering the small store, the bell above the door ringing, Harry makes his way back to the coolers near the back that hold the drinks, knowing Louis went his own direction. There is a store clerk behind the tiny counter, and one other younger lady, both of who are talking to each other, paying to attention to the two boys because they’re just boys, playing around like boys do. But what they don’t know, is that Harry is slipping in a glass bottle of ice-cold sweet tea and a different bottle of coke, both into his bag and zipping it back up, it going unseen and unnoticed by anybody else.

And he’s quietly making his way back outside, seeing Louis not too far behind him. They know to start running when they hear somebody yell, and they run and run, until they get to their bikes, jumping on them and biking down the long empty road. They don’t stop for a long while, until Louis calls out to Harry to pull over to the side, and so he does.

He’s still smiling from the rush, the rush of shoplifting, because it’s something Louis taught him how to do long ago, yet he still gets excited and anxious about doing it. And the smile on Louis’ face when he hands him the cold coke bottle makes something inside Harry jump, something that happens a lot lately, and also something Harry always pushes away. Louis complains about how he was only able to grab a bag of assorted mini-chocolates, but Harry assures him it’s fine because another small town or something is ahead, he remembers from their map.

(Louis doesn’t have his own back, so he always seems to hide what he picks up under a piece of his clothing, and Harry noticed today it was in the front of his super-loose shorts. Louis’ been losing weight, which is why he can do that more often, and is why the chocolates are melted. But Harry doesn’t care; he knows Louis has boxers, and the chocolates are individually wrapped so it wasn’t bothersome.)

And on the side of the road, they sit and eat their new snacks and drink their fresh cold drinks in peace, sometimes commenting about something they see, or just enjoying each other’s presence.

That’s how it always is with them. Ever since those six months ago when Louis decided he didn’t want to live at home anymore, in Doncaster. He was all ready to leave, with his bike and guitar and one pair of clothes, sitting there with Harry in their childhood tree house in the small backyard they shared. When Louis was explaining to him about his plans to just travel around on his bike, going wherever the road took him, Harry made up his mind then. He didn’t want to lose his childhood and longtime best friend.

No matter how much Louis was against Harry going with him, Harry just ran off to pack his one backpack with blankets and a few other things, got his bike, and was standing across from Louis in the small yard. He just turned fifteen not two weeks before, and it was freezing outside all the time, but he wanted to stay with Louis, wanted to travel all over with him. It sounded fun and though he’d miss his family, and Louis’ too, he would miss Louis more if he hadn’t gone.

And that’s how this all started. Louis never gave Harry a specific reason as to why he wanted to run away, but Harry trusted him so that was that. Ever since, they’ve been traveling around on foot or on bike aimlessly, never really having a specific place they wanted to go or a specific direction they wanted to head in. They’ve been to almost every city and town from Doncaster up to Aberdeen, and back to Gaslow. And back to Holmes Chapel, where Harry was born. Back to Manchester. And everywhere in between.

Up until about a week ago, never had they had any direction they wanted to go. A week ago when Louis woke up one morning, and the first thing he said to Harry when he got back from his walk was London. We’re going to London. And they had just made it out of Aberdeen (Louis wanted to go back to Aberdeen after Manchester because he loved it or something.) The small place they just robbed two drinks and candies from was about another day or two away from London; they were so close.

They’re headed down to Brighton, and then will go up to London. Because they’ve never been that far south before, and Louis seems quite excited about doing so. Currently, they know the small settlement they left was about an hour outside of Southampton on foot, so it wouldn’t be too much longer now. Not much longer at all. (Harry’s even kind of excited about London. And not just because Louis is, though it could be that.)

-

It’s August now, right in the middle. Yes, it’s hot as hell outside during the day, but it still gets pretty cold at night. And now, as they’ve been riding their bikes, or walking with them, nearly all day now, Harry is glad they’ve made it to Brighton. They don’t venture too far into the city, aiming to not be noticed too much, or at all if possible. They fill the empty water bottles with water fountains at a grocery, and then head down to the beach.

Late in the day, and it’s way hot, so they aren’t surprised when nobody else was there. The one odd couple, which was way off and walking away, and now Louis and Harry are alone, leaning their bikes up against the large pillars that held up the boardwalk above them. The tide was low, so it was easier to find a place, and easier to find drift wood that they’d be able to use as just a small fire to roast the small bag of marshmallows Louis ‘picked up’ from that grocery earlier.

Harry once again sets up their blankets, just as the sun starts to set. The fire is long out and covered with plenty of sand, so there’s nothing really Harry can put between the blankets, so he just puts them a couple feet apart, while Louis was washing his feet in the seawater. Watching him for a while was peaceful, and then Harry decided to pull himself up and run down to the water to wash his own feet.

A little later, after they’d dried up and Harry found himself staring at Louis again across from him, he silently sighed. Louis, who was staring up at the barely lit sky with his hands behind his head, eyes bright and feathery hair falling over his perfect skin so effortlessly. Louis really is beautiful, and Harry knows about his own feelings towards Louis. They’re pretty obvious, to himself and probably to anybody, but he knows Louis doesn’t feel the same way. Maybe. Though he will sometimes catch Louis staring at him in such a way, or talking to him like they’ve been together for ten years, but he always brushes those off.

Harry knows that he finds Louis highly attractive, knows that he would spend the rest of his life with Louis if given the chance. But he also knows that being gay is not as welcomed as it probably should be, and also that Louis isn’t. (Maybe. Harry has his suspicions, because Louis is so girly, but Louis’ never admitted anything out loud and he’s never really been in a relationship before so Harry can’t be sure.)

Not knowing how long he’d been watching Louis, Harry looked away and his eyes widened. The sky was almost dark now, the only light coming from the fire and the last remnants of the setting sun. The stars were just barely able to be seen, and the waters were quiet, though seagulls still made noises now and again. It was a lot different from the trees, the vast woods. A lot different, though Harry liked it much better. Especially since he could see Louis better now.

The beautiful boy who’s eyes were closed now, and his breathing was slower, so Harry knew he must be asleep. He was much calmer asleep, looked less tense and more himself than he had in the longest time. Harry misses this Louis; the childish, wonderful Louis who was always happy and always kind and loving towards Harry. Rarely are there days where Louis is himself, where he’s in a good mood, and where he laughs a lot, and smiles. Those days, Harry stores away also, only to observe them when he’s doubting, and when he needs something to keep him going. Something that’ll remind him that leaving with Louis was worth it.

Because sometimes he feels like it wasn’t. Because of how gloomy Louis has become. He’s not his usual, happy self anymore. Almost a whole other person now, and Harry does miss old Louis. A lot. But, as soon as he thinks about or feels regretful about coming with Louis, he pushes all that away and mentally slaps himself a few times. Nothing would ever change Louis in Harry’s eyes, and nothing would ever come between the two, at least on Harry’s side. He may only be fifteen, but he’s sure of his feelings, and he’s very sure of his decisions he makes with and for Louis.

Dogs from inside the city start barking at the sound of a police car siren, and that startled Harry a bit, but Louis was so still, and didn’t seem stirred. He’s not usually a deep-sleeper, could wake from the slightest of sounds, like Harry sitting up, or a bird, which is why Harry’s slightly confused. That surely would’ve woken him, or made him stir. Yet, he’s still as ever, just the rise and fall of his chest visible; not even an eyelash was batted.

Trying to stay as quiet as possible, Harry sits up and is watching Louis like a hawk, yet Louis still doesn’t do anything. Is still very the same after Harry had crawled over to where Louis was laying. And there he lay, looking soft and calm and kind of happy. His skin was smooth and perfectly tanned, stretching over his developing arms, which were stretched up and behind his head. His eyes were still under his eyelids, and those pretty eyelashes drew patterns across his cheeks with their shadows, and the farther down Harry looked, the closer he got to those lips.

Soft and thin, but pretty all the same. Harry, who was nearly looming over him, bit his own lip. Never has he wanted to kiss somebody before, but now, in this very moment, all he wants is to lean over and kiss Louis until the sun comes up again, to lay with him and not alone ever again.

And before he knows what he’s doing, Harry is leaning over, on his forearms now, and his face is really close to Louis’. The breath gets caught in his throat, only because this is the only time he recalls ever being so close to Louis like this. (Well, except for when they were little, little children and shared Harry’s big racecar bed.) Then, it was as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from Louis anymore, because he’s closed the space and was kissing Louis.

Louis didn’t seem to move at all, or wake, Harry noticed after he pulled away. So, he kissed Louis again. Because his lips were soft, and warm and comforting, and they sent a swarm of different feelings through Harry. Warm all over, and heart swelling, Harry pulled away again, not wanting to freak Louis out. His first kiss, and the other was asleep. At least it was Louis.

But, it’s like when he pulled away, he didn’t. Because he was back up again, but Louis’ lips were still on his, and were pressing back, and wow. Louis was kissing him and he was kissing Louis and how much better could this get? Not much, apparently, because Louis was pulling back, looking wide awake and breathing hard, and Harry guessed he must’ve looked the same.

He’s scared, Harry, because he doesn’t know what to do, and he doesn’t know what Louis is going to do, and that makes him nervous. There is a huge chance that Louis will push him away, and go away and never want anything to do with Harry again, which just the thought makes Harry sad. But there is also a chance that he likes Harry too, and wants him just as much, even though it’s a small chance. Harry wants Louis now, wants to kiss him more, and cuddle with him, and maybe even spend the rest of time running away with him.

But Louis is only staring at him, no expression clear on his face at the moment; just staring into Harry’s eyes, with his own deep, deep blue ones, that make Harry almost shudder with how pretty they are. Yet, Harry sits still and stares back at Louis because he would never give up a chance to gaze into Louis’ breathtaking eyes. They’re sitting close, legs pressed together and faces less than a foot apart, and Harry still wants closer. Again, he’s never been close like this to Louis, with anybody actually, and he loves it, wants- craves more.

The breeze is light and fresh, coming off the low waves of the sea perfectly; no seagulls can be heard anymore, but a few cars from far off can be; it’s almost dark by now, most of the stars visible and the east end of the sky still lit with lightish blues and purples; not too hot, yet not too cold. The perfect weather for any special moment, and Harry barely registers it, because Louis’ suddenly kissing him again, hands holding behind his neck and the side of his face, and Harry melts into it instantly. He kisses those soft lips back, and his hands come up to scrunch in the bottom of Louis’ tee, and it’s almost too perfect.

Because now Louis has his arms around Harry’s waist and is pulling him back against the blanket on the sand, moving on his side so he could lean down and still be able to kiss Harry. And Harry’s still trying to process the first touch of their lips, let alone being able to lightly snog Louis and lay with him on this perfect night on the beach. He was gasping a bit when Louis pulled away again, but it was briefly for he was back to kissing along Harry’s jaw, and then his mouth again, Harry only having gotten a lungful of air.

But he doesn’t care if he’s running out of breath, that’s what Louis does: he takes Harry’s breath away. Literally and metaphorically. He’s so perfect in Harry’s eyes, so perfect and he may be a little brat sometimes, but Harry loves him either way, finds grumpy Louis kind of cute anyways. His hand is still bunched in the bottom of Louis’ shirt, but the other is holding tight to Louis’ which had trailed down earlier in search of the other’s hand.

Then he felt it: Louis’ tongue was trailing hotly and slowly along his lips and he gasped because he’d never felt anything like that before and he loved it. But when he gasped, he felt Louis’ tongue sweep in further, soft and sweet against his own. Harry loves doing this, kissing with Louis, more than anything in the world, more than anything he’s ever done. It makes him feel loved, and wanted, and just every other good adjective out there.

It was a long while before Louis pulled away again, and Harry could breathe again. (And maybe a part of him wished Louis would kiss him even more, not let him breathe for a long time, because that was amazing, though he’d never admit to it.) Their eyes locked in an instant, Harry almost gasping again because he’s never seen that in Louis’ eyes before, maybe glimpses of it (whatever it was, he didn’t know) here and there, but never full on like this, with a faint smile. He wanted to know what that look was, what that feeling that suddenly took over Louis’ eyes and expression and being was.

He hadn’t the time to worry about it then, because Louis kissed him again, closed-mouthed and quick, before falling down next to Harry and pulling him close. Not only did Louis just snog Harry, but now he’s letting Harry lay with him and cuddle with him, and Harry’s heart explodes. Snuggling closer and still holding one of Louis’ hands, Harry gladly lets Louis pull the other blanket up over them, and when Louis tilts his head up, Harry is already looking up at him.

Expecting Louis to talk, he gets another kiss in return, and then another to his chin, along his jaw and then on his forehead, before Louis was falling back to lay his head next to Harry’s. They were still looking at each other, gazing into the other’s eyes for a long while. And now, Harry could guess easily what was running though Louis’ eyes. Could see it on his face, how much Louis adored him, and how much he wanted Harry (As much as Harry wanted him.) So many promises, so many needs, and Louis didn’t have to say anything, because Harry got it.

And he nodded small up at Louis in understandment, gladly welcoming yet another sweet kiss from Louis, before he was forced to close his eyes and lay with Louis like this. He was happy, content, comfortable here in Louis’ arms, knowing that Louis felt the just as much about Harry as Harry did him. The night was late, and they had a long day tomorrow, finishing the last of their trek to the big L, and though Harry wished so much they could kiss forever on end, he was glad they were able to get some sleep. Good sleep, is exactly what he needed, and exactly what he knew he would get. Not in the woods, dark and creepy, but here in Louis’ arms, staring up at the stars; sleep took over him in no time, quickly, and he wasn’t woken once, until Louis kissed him awake early the next morning.

Which, that was nice. It was surprising, because for about two seconds Harry forgot all about the night before, but then he remembered and he was kissing Louis back. Butterflies filled his stomach and he could feel himself blushing, but that didn’t matter because Louis was blushing too, he could tell when Louis pulled away just a bit, and he was smiling and petting at Harry’s hair.

Louis didn’t go for a walk like he normally does. He stayed with Harry, helped pick and put everything up, and then they sat and ate the rest of the marshmallows while talking about almost anything they could think of, from the beautiful sea, to the people walking above them on the boardwalk, and before long, they were headed off, riding through the backstreets of the city until they found the highway that would take them north to London.

Louis seemed his normal self again. All happy and bright, cheerful, just like how he used to be all the time. Way before they ran, when they still spent the summers together in their adjoined backyards, and would sneak off together to go play down at the creek. Harry’s missed this Louis, and somehow he feels as if it was him who brought this Louis back. He doesn’t dwell on it too much, deciding to keep himself in a bright and uplifting mood, and the trip to London went by faster than either of them expected. They talked almost the whole time, and by the time they saw London city lights, both of them couldn’t be happier.

London was amazing. So big and beautiful, and Harry’s never wanted to be anywhere with Louis like this. After plenty of exploring, just as it was about to get dark again, Louis and Harry found a large park at the edge of a vast amount of trees, and set up camp right at the edge of the trees. They didn’t have a fire this time either, because they could tell the night would be warm, and because where they were was lit up enough my the nearby park lights.

And there they stayed for a few long nights, roaming around the immense city in awe during the day, and finding their way back to that park at night. It was a quiet park, and quite beautiful, with its large patches of flowers and big oak trees and small ponds, so of course Harry was sad when Louis announced for them to stay somewhere else for the fifth night of being in London. After a little while of walking, they came across a bridge that Louis said they would camp at. It wasn’t as comfortable, being under this bridge next to a loud creek, as it was in the silent, soft park, but as long as Louis was there, Harry was happy.

It started to rain, and Harry knew why Louis wanted to be under the bridge instead, and they laid there huddled together for warmth as the rain pelted down around them, though they stayed dry thankfully. Harry was happy to be laying with Louis, and was even happier when Louis kissed him softly for a few minutes, before starting to sing. Whatever song it was, Harry couldn’t pinpoint the name, but he recognized it and sang along when he could. He doesn’t know how long they’ll be staying here in London, when they’ll be leaving, or if they’ll be leaving at all, but he doesn’t need to know. Harry has learned how to not be surprised when all of a sudden Louis ups and wants to leave. He knows how to not learn to like a place too much, because they’ll eventually leave.

-

Two years didn’t seem long enough. Two years wasn’t long enough to spend with Louis, yet that’s all Harry got. London was wonderful, full of job opportunities, of which they both took advantage of, and after just two months they were able to find a small flat to share. And for those two years, during another move to a bigger apartment, through two different jobs for both, and having real lives of their own, Harry had the best time of his life.

Living with Louis was the best; coming home from his job at a coffee shop to cook for Louis, sharing a bed with Louis, sharing a car and laughs and making friends with their neighbors. Harry loved Louis, sooo much, more than anything.

And after two years together, after two years of holding hands and kissing and cuddling, after two years of being in London, Harry finally told this to Louis. It was Christmas eve, Louis’ birthday, and Harry decided to make it the best birthday for him yet. A big wonderful dinner, he made for Louis when Louis got home, and not only that but he slept with Louis that night. It was both of theirs first times at all, and it was beautiful, something that made Harry love Louis even more. He told Louis then, after they were clean and tucked away together, still out of breath, that he loved Louis, and even though Louis only hummed and kissed him in response, Harry still felt on top of the world.

But homeward he went, the day of Christmas, because he woke up to an empty, cold flat, no trace of Louis anywhere except his clothes and phone. And as he laid in his childhood bed, crying in his Mother’s arms, all he could think about was blue eyes and soft lips, and the one thing he left behind, on the small white paper sitting on their bed.

 

_I’m the boy you wanted, not the man you loved._

 


End file.
